Wanting Potter to Win
by Nephthys Moon
Summary: Popular Quidditch stars were just - drawn to her. Hermione gets asked to the Yule Ball by a second Champion, before she can give an answer to the first. What follows changes the events of Voldemort's return just a little.


There was a small, secret smile on her lips the past few days - ever since the Yule Ball had been announced, actually, and he'd asked her. Of all the girls, from all three schools, he'd chosen her. Her cheeks warmed with pleasure.

She was heading to Arithmancy, coming from the library, and feeling really rather pleased with herself. Ron was going to hit the ceiling when he found out, she just knew it, and she wanted to keep her delicious little secret for as long as she could.

"Um - Hermione?" called an unfamiliar voice in the nearly empty corridor. The passage was infrequently used; she'd discovered it was the fastest way from the library to Arithmancy, which meant it was well off the beaten track. She turned to face the speaker and was surprised to see Cedric Diggory.

She knew many girls, both above and below her year, found him extremely fanciable, with his soft eyes and perfect hair, but she rather thought he looked sweet and caring. Certainly someone she could fancy, she supposed, but more someone that she could care about if given half a chance, which was ridiculous, naturally, because boys that popular did not take an interest in girls like her - and why was she even thinking about this when he was staring at her, waiting for her to speak?

"Er - yes. Cedric. You needed me for something? Do you need help with an essay?" she asked politely. It wouldn't be the first time someone from several years above had come to her for help with homework.

He stared at her oddly for a moment, his head slightly tilted to the side, as though confused. "No. I get top marks on my own, though if I ever did need help, I expect you'd be the first person I'd ask," he said with a little laugh and a shake of his head. "Actually," he said, stopping when a group of girls walked by giggling.

"Yes," she prompted, wondering what was taking so long. She was used to the giggling girls, what with Krum always in the library these days.

"Would you mind coming somewhere private with me to talk?" he blurted out, and she thought, a little fondly, that he reminded her a bit of Harry at the moment, so awkward and unsure, and not at all what she would picture of someone so adored by the student population.

"Well, actually," she began, thinking of Arithmancy and how late she was already running, but then she looked up into his face, and he looked so hopeful and earnest. She sighed. Boys. "Alright, but just for a few minutes, because I'm already late for Arithmancy."

"Brilliant," he said, and then paused. "I haven't a clue where to go," he admitted, shoulders slumping a bit. Hermione was about to suggest Myrtle's bathroom (though she wasn't sure the gossipy old ghost could be trusted to keep whatever was obviously so important a secret) when he brightened. "I've got it! Prefect's bathroom! No one should be in there!"

"Isn't that - for prefects only?" she asked, a little scandalized, though not much, after having spent so much time with Ron and Harry.

"Yes, but you aren't there to take a bath, after all. Just to have a quick chat and then be on your way. Besides, you're practically a prefect already. Everyone knows you'll get it next year," he said with a soft smile down at her. She felt her face glowing warmly.

Within a short time, during which nothing was really said to her surprise (she thought he'd at least try to make small talk, but it seemed like he was working up his courage for something), they made it to the door that lead to prefect's bathroom and he gave the password. Once inside, he allowed her a few moments to look around in awe before he cleared his throat and drew her attention back.

"Yes, of course," she said, tearing her eyes away from the dozens of taps along the bath. "You wanted to talk to me about something. If this is about Harry and Goblet, I'm really quite positive he didn't put his name in, so I hope you didn't bring me down here just to ask me about that," she said, a bit crossly, truth be told she was sick of having to defend Harry from that accusation, and she'd always thought Cedric believed Harry.

"No, no," he said quickly. "If Potter says he didn't do it, I believe him. He'd have to be mad to do it at his age, and frankly, anyone with half a brain can tell he hates all the attention. No, I was wondering," he stopped and took a deep breath. "I was wondering if Potter had asked you to the Yule Ball?"

"Harry?" she asked, to make sure she understood. "Ask me to the Yule Ball?" Cedric nodded. "Why would he?"

"So - it's not - he's not - you're not?" he stammered.

"If you're asking if Harry and I are a couple of any sort, the answer is no. Harry's my best friend," she said, looking at Cedric oddly. Where in the world was this going?

"And Weasley? Did he ask?" he persisted, and Hermione laughed.

"To be perfectly honest with you, Diggory, I'm not sure Ron's even noticed I'm a girl, so unless you mean one of the twins, both of whom I'm sure find me far too young to consider for a date, the answer is again, no," she said, still laughing. "Though I am curious why you have a sudden interest in my romantic life."

"Well," he said, drawing out the word. "You see, the thing is...I was wondering if you'd like to go to the ball with me?"

Hermione fell silent. "I see," he said. "You're clearly not interested and I've just made a complete fool of myself so I'll just go." He turned to leave.

"No!" she shouted. He turned back. "It isn't that. You caught me by surprise. And trust me, you have no idea how much of a surprise," she admitted.

"Why?" he asked. "You're really quite pretty if you allow people to notice you, you're very clever, brave and loyal to your friends. Why is it so surprising that someone should ask you? Because Weasley hasn't noticed you're a girl, no one else is allowed to?"

"Honestly? That's a bit of it, yes," she admitted, wondering why she did. "But the second reason is that Viktor Krum asked me as well. I - I haven't given him an answer yet. I told him I needed to think about it, and I do. But, for the both of you to want to take me is just - surreal to me."

Cedric stepped closer to her. "It's because we're older," he said suddenly, looking extremely awkward as he did. "The boys your age, they don't see what we do. They see you and they see a mate, a friend. Older boys look at you and they see intelligence and beauty and loyalty and those things matter. You're not silly, like a lot of the girls around here. I don't want to get in Krum's way if you'd like to go with him better than me. But if you'd at least consider going with me, it would make me really happy."

"Harry and Ron are going to kill me," she muttered. "I just can't tell them, then, can I? I'll just show up at the ball with you. It'll be a secret. Right?" she looked up at him for reassurance and he smiled down at her.

"If that's what you want," he agreed. "Probably for the best, anyway. Can't have it getting out that I stole the brains of the Potter operation. I might get accused of cheating."

"I'm still rooting for Harry, I'll have you know!" she said crossly.

"You'd better. I'm rooting for Harry, too," he admitted. "If Potter doesn't win, then whoever entered him into this thing will have won, and that means he's dead. We can't have that. So I want Potter to win. Doesn't mean I won't try my best against him anyway. Have to make it look good, after all."

* * *

"You take it," Cedric said.

"We'll take it together," Harry insisted, urging Cedric forward. He shook his head.

"I don't want it, Potter. You did this. You won. You proved that you could beat whoever put you in this to try to kill you," he urged. "You take the Cup to rub it in their face that they've failed. And then we'll sneak off with that cloak of yours Hermione's told me about and get a few butterbeers together, alright?"

"If you're sure," Harry said hesitantly.

Cedric took one last look at the Cup. The glory it would mean for Hufflepuff paled in significance to what he knew was lurking out there, just waiting for Potter to fail. "I'm sure," he said with every scrap of determination he could muster.

Potter reached for the Cup and disappeared. "I don't think that was supposed to happen," he muttered, darkly. He sent up red sparks.

* * *

Hermione sat with him while his leg was mended and they waited for word of Harry. He'd been right. The Cup had been a Portkey, but not one that anyone knew about. Whoever was trying to kill Potter had turned the Cup into a Portkey, and he had sent the boy off to face them alone, without even going with them, because he didn't see it. In retrospect, it all made perfect sense. He could have been there, fighting with him!

"You didn't know," Hermione said, smoothing his hand, which had clenched into a fist at his side. His father looked a little horrified at the much younger girl at his side, but he didn't much care at the moment.

"He offered it to me, Hermione," he said shortly. "I could have at least helped him."

"And he would have hated himself if he'd dragged you into his mess," Hermione responded dully. "Cedric we've been through this."

There was a large thud, and the Cup rolled to his feet, stopping inches from his toes. Sprawled a few feet from it was Potter, grasping the body of a short, balding man with strangely rat-like features.

"Wormtail!" Hermione shouted. "Incarcerous!" The man was bound and Dumbledore was racing to Potter. The rest of the night was a confused blur of images for Cedric. Potter bleeding. Dumbledore taking the bound man Hermione had called Wormtail along with Potter back up to the castle. Fudge trying to bring Dementors into the castle, only to be blocked by Dumbledore who came out shouting and waving around a Patronus. Potter's story about He Who Must Not Be Named. The two Death Eaters. A dog turning into a man - the escaped murderer Sirius Black hugging Potter.

Potter shoving his Triwizard winnings at the Weasley Twins when he wouldn't take it. That had been something to see. And Gryffindor Tower. Curling up on a sofa in Gryffindor Tower while the girl he thought he might be in love with and hang how old she was fell asleep on one opposite between 'her boys' with her head on Potter's shoulder. And how that made him happier than he thought possible: his girl, with her boys, safe and sound in Gryffindor Tower, for at least one more night, while the world went to hell around them. She opened her eyes and smiled softly at him.

"You're not supposed to be in here, you know," she whispered, careful not to wake the boys.

"I know," he said.

"Goodnight, Cedric," she said, yawning softly and shoving Potter's shoulder into a more comfortable position.

He laughed softly. She was adorable. "Goodnight, Hermione. Sweet dreams."


End file.
